50 Shades Of Shane
by HollywoodGirl15
Summary: She was a nobody trying to fight her way out of Atlanta and managed to get lucky. He had everything ripped from him and was going crazy. (Shane/OC)
1. Atlanta

_(Disclaimer/Author's Note: Nothing in this story belongs to me, except for random OC characters that'll be thrown in. The world of The Walking Dead and everything in it belong to it's wonderful creators, including most of the main ones that'll appear in here. I'm not sure where this came from, remotely at all. It started off as a joke between a friend and I. However, it's become something real! I have cool stuff coming up, but I need to shake off my writer's block. And oddly enough? This fun little story is doing the trick. I don't think it'll take on the whole 50 Shades Of Grey persona-yes, there'll end up being sex, but not like that. I like to think of it personally as more of '50 Shades' of a person's personality. As always, comments are love. They inspire me to write!)_

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The guttural growls echoed throughout the small convenience store. She could hear them growing louder and louder, could hear their dirty nails digging against the worn wood of the place. She could smell the blood on their breath, could feel the desperate in their pounding snarls for the food they craved. They were mindless, driven with hunger, and she was their next meal. The snarls grew louder, along with the pulse that she could hear inside of her head. It was a rhythm that beat with their hands, with the creak of the wood in steady thumps.

_Thump._

_Thump._

The wall next to her head exploded and a scream rocketed out of her lips as a hand reached itself in. It was mindless, just searching for the thing they knew was on the other side. But the snarls grew louder, right in her ear, and she knew they had her scent. The smell of blood was more prominent and she bit down into her lip. She began to back away from the wall, her legs shaking as she glanced around for a way out. Adrenaline was supposed to make you smarter, more keen to your surroundings, or so the movies always said. But stuck in that moment, with wide eyes as she stared at the lifeless eyes through the hole, it's teeth bared and moans of delight slipping through its mouth, there was no survival instinct in her. Not the type that was Indiana Jones worthy, at least.

The only thing she could do was run, and buy herself more time until the Walkers slipped through the door and she became what she feared.

Turning on her heel as she heard the wood give once more, the girl tore her way through the abandoned shelves, medical supplies kicking up everywhere. The racket was enough to get more of the Walkers attention, gave them enough leverage to know that their chase had not been in vain. She pushed another shelf over, bumping her arm into it roughly as she moved. Another bottle of pills scattered across the floor and the empty bottle landed against the door.

It was only there for a moment before the bottle burst across the floor in a plastic mess, the door and wall giving way to the Walkers outside. They charged in, running full blast after their prey. She turned her back to them, hoping that the shelves that she had pushed over would keep them at bay for enough time. She reached the half rotted out staircase, taking it by twos and not watching her step. She didn't have time to; she could feel the dead on her heels, breathing their breath onto her clothing and staining their memories into them.

She reached the top of the stairs, bursting through the door and slamming it shut behind her. The top room was a stock one, full of shelves that mirrored the ones downstairs. It wouldn't be long until they broke through the worn wood of the door at her heels, but the shelves would give her a little bit of extra time to try and find a way out. She was dumb for climbing up; the only way up was down. Cursing quietly to herself, the girl grabbed the end of the shelf, dragging the material with all of her energy towards the door, watching as the wood was already beginning to quake and the sound of the Walkers began to ascend up the stairs. Pushing her back against the front, the shelf slid smoothly into place, providing a harder brace for the ambush ahead.

She was trapped like a mouse, and she couldn't escape. After running for months, this was how it was all going to end—in a convenience store just outside of Atlanta. She had tried to get out of the city, but they had chased her into the store before she had a chance to. She had been surviving for months by using the rooftops, but she wasn't naive. She knew that the food supply had been running out, and she had to get out of the city if she had any chance of survival. Her plan had been to steal a car, hot wire it, and manage to get out before the Walkers caught wind of her.

She had underestimated their senses greatly.

It had all been so simple a few months ago, back before things had gotten out of control. She had been holed up in a more quiet neighborhood of Atlanta, one where everyone knew everyone and was in everyone's business. She had always joked about leaving the city and making something of herself, that she didn't want to be in that same dead end community forever. That was back before her neighbor had knocked on her door one night and tried to make her part of the undead. It was the first attack in the neighborhood, but Atlanta was quickly falling. She had been rushed to the CDC that was in town, but even their fortress quickly fell and she was forced to move on.

It was all supposed to blow over, or at least that's what Jenner had said originally. It was going to blow over, they were going to find a simple shot, and then things would be better again. But as the Center fell, her hope fell with it. Even Jenner had sealed off the doors once everyone had left, and she knew that the beacon that stood outside the doors today was a haunting reminder that no one was welcome.

But she had thought that she'd make it out of Atlanta at least, not holed up in the convenience store that she had past so many times before when she had gone into town, Walkers on her heels and ready to destroy her. A tremble ran throughout her body, shaking her to her core as she heard their footsteps, then the pounding of their hands on the door. They'd stop at nothing to get to her, and she knew it. Reaching down, she grabbed for the gun that was safely tucked away inside of her boot.

_Thump._

A wince graced her face as her fingers trembled, opening the mag of her gun. There was one bullet safely stored away, to be used in the gnat if it was absolutely necessary. Guns were too noisy to use on an every time basis, and she felt as if anyone who was trying to survive knew that. But it didn't stop her from carrying the gun with her; there were desperate times and desperate measures.

Now was one of them.

But what would one bullet really do?

_Nothing. _

It would only draw more Walkers to her hiding spot.

She was _fucked._ Utterly and completely trapped with no way out, and it was her own fault. She had underestimated their senses, she had been forced into the store, and she had gone up instead of trying to find a way around. They were all rookie mistakes, and ones that she should have learned from the group that she had found beforehand. They had all died for their mistakes, and they were in vain; she hadn't learned a thing.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

She swallowed hard, running her fingers through her dark hair and backed up. Her back hit the large window that was there, her body slowly turning against the dirt and grime to stare down at the city below. Walkers were everywhere, crawling over each other and bumping shoulders to get to the store. Cars were littered around, long since abandoned and their owners lurking the streets, in desperate need of flesh.

_Thump._

The girl glanced behind her, staring at the shelf as it bulged out ever so slightly. She didn't have much time now, and the window was the only way. It was about a ten foot drop, but if she managed to grab onto lips in the concrete then there was a chance she could make it down onto the abandoned car below. There was a fence separating her from the Walkers, maybe a fifteen minute time frame.

_Thump._

She checked for latches, hitting the rusty one up with the butt of her gun. It gave after a few hard strikes, and she pressed her palm into the window pane, trying not to think of the dirt and grime that was transferring to her hand. She gave it a firm shove, watching as it flew in and a loud creak resulted from it. It didn't seem to be enough to drag the Walkers in her direction, and she secured the gun back in her boot before hoisting her leg over the edge. It cut roughly through her shorts, digging into her thigh as she bit into her lip. Heights were something she had never been keen on, but she wasn't keen on becoming a member of the living dead—or worse, their meal.

With one last glance back at the door that was starting to give completely, tiny chunks of wood beginning to come loose, the girl hoisted herself over the edge.

Hanging by her hands, nails digging into the concrete, she scrambled her feet in order to find some ground. Her boots scraped against the concrete wall for a moment before finding purchase, her legs separated awkwardly but safe. Breathing deep, she calmed her shaking nerves before daring to move her foot away, sending the right half of her body crashing down. She bit back a hiss of pain as her knee collided with the rough stone, but kept her mouth shut as she dropped her other hand and managed to slow her opposite knee down in time.

She continued the pattern, the only thought in her mind to move as she heard the door above her break clean off of its hinges. It wouldn't be long until they were scrambling out the window, and they'd fall all over themselves if it meant getting their hands on her. Her feet finally found purchase on the abandoned car's roof when the first Walker appeared out the window. It let out a vicious growl, it's knees hitting the frame with a bone crunching noise that made her stomach churn. Then it was reaching its arms out, flailing them about, and falling over the edge.

The girl quickly pressed herself back against the wall, watching as the Walker hissed at her on its way down. Then it's head was smacking against the hood of the car just below her feet, and it went silent. She could see the pool of blood beginning to form, and she pulled in a shaky breath, attempting to keep her stomach contents down. She had seen so much of it already, but it didn't make it any easier.

She doubted it ever _would_ get easier.

Her legs trembled as she moved off the car and over the Walker. For a moment her body tensed up, half waiting for the Walker to reach out and grab her. But it lay there still, spent on the car as it's friends watcher hungrily from above, waiting to get their hands on her. Scrambling away while she still could, the girl turned and headed towards the fence.

She could see the Walkers gathering more and more towards the front entrance to the store door, practically shoving past each other to try to get at the prey that was right under their noses. They were never too quick to get off a task, and it left her with her adrenaline running as she glanced around the street. It was packed, full of Walkers looking for their next meal.

There was no way she could get out. To her back was another alley way, and she could already hear the growls of the Walkers that had been alerted of her presence. The fence in front of her gave way to thousands of Walkers, desperate for a meal. She couldn't just sit back and wait for the herd to move—they'd find her. They always did.

Swallowing hard, the girl leaned back against the table, her fingers shaking against her arms. She kept searching, desperate to find a way out. She wouldn't become one of them, she couldn't. Ever since she had seen what had become of the humans at the Center, she couldn't stomach ever having that fate. Even if they found a cure, would it matter?

You lost all humanity as a Walker—you could never gain it back.

As the situation fully set itself into her bones, the girl trembled ever so slightly. To her left was death, and to her right was death. Above her was death, and there were no sewers to go down to escape. She could stay there for hours, maybe days if they felt like toying with her, and she'd be a Walker irregardless. She'd lose her humanity after running for so long.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a loud ringing echoed throughout the streets of Atlanta. It was loud enough or her to clamp her hands over her ears. It seemed to echo through every Walker's skull, a beautiful lighted beacon that would lead them to their next meal. They all ran towards the sound, desperate for their next meal. The herd moved, traveling faster than she had ever seen them before.

With the ringing still in her ears, she wasted no time. She climbed over the fence, carefully dodging the path of the gurgling demons that were making their way towards the sound. She hoped that whoever was the cause of the sound got out safe and sound, but she wasn't above mentally thanking the person for their sacrifice.

As the ringing began to fade, she made her escape from Atlanta, not stopping to look back at the Walker infested city that she had once been able to call her own.


	2. Lifeless

_Miles._

They seemed to stretch on forever, the twisting winding roads beckoning you towards the next safe haven. But was there really a safe haven? Was there really any safety now that the world had gone to complete and utter shit?

The roads seemed to drag on for miles, and Aubree was tired of walking them. She couldn't count how many days she had walked them; everything seemed to blur together when your watch no longer worked and the calenders were old and outdated. It didn't do much good to try and look into the when she managed to break into a store; their last date would be the start of it all, back when things were presumed to get better. None of the calenders went past that date though, and more than often blood was smeared all over the remaining dates like a warning label.

The first time Aubree had encountered a calender since the Zombie outbreak had been months ago, when she was still inside the CDC. When the outbreak first started, the ones that were considered sterile enough to enter the facility were allowed to live there. It was much more roomier inside than she had ever imagined, and it was supposed to be safe from the outbreak. When her neighborhood had been given the opportunity to join as long as they passed routine medical tests, Aubree had jumped on the idea. The streets were already becoming infested with the Walkers, and there wasn't any time to try and save the apartment. Most of her neighborhood had been gone by that point, anyway.

But then the infections started.

Whether it was of natural causes or they wondered in bit, undetected, the infection cases started to rise. Suddenly halls were quarantined to try and maintain the disease, but it had spread like wildfire inside of the center. Her block was the last to fall. She could still remember the cries and moans from the Walkers as they charged at the remaining CDC officials. They shot as many as they could down, but they were still bit or dead. And they were infected.

_We're all infected._

It was the knowledge that sat heavy on your shoulders, knowing that there was no escape. If you died, you were infected. If you were bit, you were just infected sooner. The only way to avoid it was to stay alive, and in a world so cold, that was an increasingly hard task. At any moment you could fall victim, and Aubree knew it all too well. She had seen too many people fall before the out break really even started, and she couldn't even imagine how the rest of the world was in that moment. The last she had heard from the television before the broadcasts had stopped was that it was spreading from the States, some unknown gene that they couldn't trace. They were trying to trace it, trying to figure out the genetic pattern so that they could make sense of it and make a vaccine, but that had gone to hell. Too many people were dying, and they couldn't keep up. Then eventually they became the dead, and the reports all lie in a blood at their feet, with no memories of the task that they had once been preforming.

A shiver ran up her spine.

_If we're all infected, then there's no vaccine. There's no hope, there's no escape. It's either survive until we evolve, or die and become the dead who are roaming the streets, hungry for flesh and to take your soul. _

Days, hours, months...time all ran together after a while. With no calender and watch to document it, there was no telling how long this entire disease had been going on. All that existed was the sunrise and sunset if you were lucky enough to make it. It was only by then that you could document that the day had changed. Aubree supposed that if you happened to be an astronomer, maybe the linings of the stars could tell you more. But when you were just trained on the basic need to survive, time didn't matter. The death toll on your belt did.

Aubree couldn't count the number of deaths that were notched into her belt, into the expensive and worn leather that had once seemed like a fantastic thing to buy. That was before money didn't matter—now it meant nothing, and if you had money it got you nowhere. The first one she had killed had been the hardest; he had been a boy in his teens, and by her guess he had been pulled into the CDC by his family that was long lost and gone. He had been wondering the hallways, a guttural, blood filled moan leaving his lips as he caught onto the scent of his very first meal. It almost seemed ironic to her in a way, that the boys first kill was also her first kill. She had been pressed up against the wall, a steel pipe in her hand that she had jarred loose from one of the housing closets. She guessed that they had stored it there so that they wouldn't have to go out and risk contamination in order to get supplies. HAZMAT suits could only do so much in a time like this.

He had stalked her, coming around the corner. She had seen his fingers first, the flesh rotting and the bone protruding as the red lights flashed. They were silent, but consuming. The week prior the lights had gone out and the safety lights had flashed. The power had gone out finally that day, and every foot step had a consequence. Every foot step was cause for your entire world to fall apart if you weren't careful. And the same went for the Walkers that openly roamed the halls, maws open and ready to consume the first thing in their sight. They were hungry, most of them dead for only a day or so. The only thing on their mind was ravenous hunger.

And Aubree would be the perfect meal.

The moment the Walker had crossed the threshold, she felt everything in her body seize up. It was instinct to kill it—she had seen them kill so many times before. But when the Walker stepped into her full view and she saw the face of a boy she had seen roaming the halls time and time again, everything in her stopped. She tensed up, almost dropped the pipe. It clattered against the wall, and the Walker turned. She could see it's maw open, bloody and gurgling, ready for a new meal. They stood like that, facing one another, sizing one another up until it charged, and Aubree's instincts took over. She swung the makeshift bat once.

Twice.

Three times.

And when she brought it down on the fourth, she would always remember the sound that the steel made as it finally sunk in and destroyed the brain. It was a wet, disgusting thump that made her stomach churn. But the gurgling had stopped, and it's white, lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling, unmoving and thinking. Aubree wondered vaguely if that's how it's life had ended the first time. But a chunk missing out of the boys' side was the only confirmation she needed that he had been bit, but spared. However, spared was how you looked at it—if they would have torn him apart, the boy wouldn't have come back. He had been one of the lucky unlucky ones.

The boys' face still haunted her mind as she tried to breathe in the muggy heat of Georgia. The way his eyes that had once sparkled with so much life, so much boyish mischief, so much happiness despite the situation...and then it had all been ripped away. Those beautiful blue eyes that had out shined most of the people residing in the CDC had turned white. They were lifeless, thirsty, and full of hunger. They were ready to kill, ready to dig their nails into your body and rip you apart, organ by organ if they got to taste your blood.

That had been the first time Aubree truly assessed and accepted the situation at hand. With her steel pipe full of blood and brain matter, she had made her way past her block and towards the front doors. She knew it wouldn't be much better outside, but she also wasn't naive enough to think that if she stayed in the CDC it'd be safe for long. The remaining scientists were fleeting. They had given up hope. There was no reason for her to stay in a disease center that was being over run by the very virus they were trying to destroy.

Aubree had kept the steel pipe tucked into her belt loop all through Atlanta, then it had eventually fallen shortly after she had entered the store. She hadn't had time to pick it up, and with only one bullet left in her gun, Aubree was screwed. She wasn't stupid; she knew that fact well. She had managed to pick up a knife or two from the cars that lay on the side of the road, most of them scavenged for gas and supplies already. But a knife would only get her so far, and she knew she had to scavenge herself if she planned on surviving.

It felt as if it had been a solid week since she had managed to escape from Atlanta. During the day, she walked the roads, once and a while stopping by abandoned cars to see if they held any amount of gas in them. After the seventh car in a row on an empty tank, Aubree stopped looking. She kept to the forests at night; they had more places to hide, and they were more silent and forgiving than the roads that had once been her safety.

As the sun began to drop in the sky once more, like clockwork Aubree made her way towards the trees. Her hand stayed firmly on her knife in case she needed to quickly pull it out. There was no use in risking her last bullet—it would draw the Walkers to her. Besides, that bullet needed to be saved in case the world got her while she was trying to get the world.

Working her way through the trees, Aubree mentally marked every step she took. The crackles of leaves and twigs snapping put her on high alert. She noted them carefully, knowing that it was her steps and not a Walkers or an unknown threat. They were all pointed with her steps, and she allowed her body to relax ever so slightly as she swung her legs over another fallen tree. It felt eerie to be in a forest without animals—they weren't immune to the Walkers attacks either.

But it was the world now, and with the sun to her back, she pressed on. She could hear a brook babbling in the distance, and Aubree knew it would be a safe place for the night. The Walkers got stuck in the mud whenever they tried to cross, and it had proved to be a lifesaver once or twice in the past. She had outrun a few mini-herds that way, and she had stood with her adrenaline pumping over a crossed bridge as they growled and practically screamed for her to come back. Their dangling arms reached out, eager to tear her to shreds, and Aubree would step just out of their way.

She liked watching the thirst in their eyes right before she drove the knife deep into their skull, then washed the blood away in the very river they had died in.

Another step, and another crackle of a twig beneath her boot. It was echoed, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She froze her steps, listening carefully as the footsteps following her own came closer, trying to be quiet but not succeeding well for her tender senses. It wasn't a walker—it was too articulate to be a Walker. The footsteps were made of force, not the awkward clumbering of the Walkers.

Her fingers reached for the glock at her hip, pulling it free from it's holster as she spun around. The barrel of her gun knocked against her trackers, both of them staring one another down. Aubree's finger moved to the trigger, her arms locking and steadying themselves as she never took her eyes away from the man who's barrel was pointed just above hers, aiming right for the center of her forehead.


	3. Handcuffs

"Put the gun down."

Aubree's eyes never left the man's in front of her, taking in his entire figure as the gun wavered ever so slightly in her hands. He looked average enough, just more muscular than most of the men she had come by. The only things that set him apart were the police insignias that seemed to cling to his hat and his shirt like they still mattered. Her eyes filtered down, taking in the extra gun at his waist, a Beretta set in a holster. From there a set of handcuffs poked out from a little further back.

It was the first cop that Aubree had seen alive in ages.

"Your authority ain't mean shit anymore." Aubree stated matter of factly, watching the emotions change in his eyes. She had seen it entirely too many times before; it was that clinging hope that society would go back to how they once knew it. Back before the outbreak, back before the dead were rising and eating everything in sight, and if they weren't, they were making more for their army. Some people didn't know when to give it up; Aubree had personally given up that hope long after entering Atlanta.

His eyes watched hers carefully, deliberately, trying to debate who she was and pick apart every atom in her body. He was trained well from what she could tell; the way his fingers never strayed and his arms never shook told her that he had shot in the past. He had gotten his first taste of the trigger release, and he wasn't afraid to take advantage of it again. Aubree could see the utter murder in his eyes, looking for vengeance with absolutely nothing left to hide.

He had killed before, and he'd do it again if it meant keeping his camp safe. "Put. The gun. Down."

The man at his side reached out, grabbing at his gun with a stern look. "Lets both put the gun down and talk like humans about this."

"Human's don't exist anymore." The words slipped from Aubree's lips before she could stop them, her fingers staying on the man who's finger was still itching on the trigger. "We're all just monsters waiting to happen."

"Shane." The man next to him spoke up, his eyes trained on the muscular man. He watched him carefully, his hand reaching out and grabbing the gun firmly. He pulled it away from his partner's hands, giving him a look. "We don't kill the living."

"So we wait around for them to kill us?!" Shane's voice raised a few octaves, his eyes darting around his friend's face. A stern look was set on both of their faces, trying to decipher silently what they were going to do with the intruder. Finally, Shane dropped his shoulders, glaring a bit as he shook his head and began walking backwards. "Whatever you say, Rick. I'll be sure to tell Lori and Carl your cause of death was stupidity."

With one more turn on of his heel, Shane was marching back through the woods, slowly swallowed by the trees and out of sight. The man kept his eyes on the spot where his friend had formally been, then turn to look at Aubree. She took in his cop uniform, raising her eyes a bit at the fact that he was still in it. The police force had died long ago, and there was no authority to upheld any longer.

"Why do you wear that stupid cop uniform?" A small amused noise left Aubree's lips, her run still raised and pointing at the stranger who had deemed her worthy of his time. His eyes were just as careful as his friends, but humanity laid in his eyes.

"Now, I think we got off on the wrong foot. You'll have to excuse Shane, he's a bit of a hot head." His voice was edged with caution, ready to over take her if needed. He stepped around Aubree in a side step, his hand reaching for her gun.

Aubree's eyes narrowed, the gun in her hand coming up to smash into his nose roughly as she made to step away from him. His hand was too quick however, reaching out and grabbing her wrists. A rough tug sent her gun to the ground along with her body, his knee in the center of her back as she felt the warm liquid spilling from his nose and onto her hands.

"Miss, I've dealt with criminals for years. You want to try that again?" His breath was hot in her ear, her shoulders struggling for escape from the forest floor. A clicking noise hit her ears, and she was pulled up roughly by the handcuffs that rested on her wrists. "Now, I wanted to talk about this civilly. You ain't giving me much of a chance though."

"Let me go!" Aubree swung her shoulder back, trying to jar Rick's grasp. His grasp only tightened as he dodged backwards, slamming her front first into a tree. Her head hit at an odd angle, black vision spilling behind Aubree's eyes as she swallowed hard and grit her teeth. Her body was beginning to throb, ready to collapse and give in to the overwhelming blackening sensation that was filling her body.

The last thing Aubree seen before her world went black was the forest turning upside down and Rick's haunting face dancing against the blackening sky.

–

Rick paced the rather wide porch of the farm house, watching out over the camp. In the distance he could see his group mingling with one another, the fire at a fair height and only big enough to lick at the bottom's of their pots where their food resided. The wind swept up for a moment, an ominous breeze flowing in the dark and rattling the leaves that were beginning to lose themselves to the seasonal instinct.

Winter was coming in, and it was coming in fast.

The boards next to him gave off an age long creak, drawing his attention from his thoughts. They had a tendency to run away with themselves, trying to plan out that next motive, that next patronizing move that would put everyone's lives in danger. How many more would he have to lose? If he gained one, would he lose more?

The brunette cautiously walked up to him, her hand instinctively wrapping around his waist as she pressed her frozen nose to his shoulder. Out of pure instinct, his own arm curled around her, pulling her in tight as her emotions from the day let themselves out. "Herschel says he's doing better..."

Rick listened as her voice trailed off, short and quiet as she reached her hand up to wipe at her eyes. His fingers moved along her back, smoothing down the over sized plaid shirt that kept her body from the chill. It was becoming worn and tattered from so many strenuous washings, but with the world how it was they had no room to complain. "Why are you so upset then?"

The brunette straightened up, wiping at her eyes as she pulled in a shaky breath. "Herschel needs to do the surgery, Rick. But he doesn't have the tools. I don't even know if there's a place around here left to raid for them."

Rick's hand came down on the railing, punching hard at it as he pulled in a slow breath. Every fiber in his being was searching for some sort of answer—ones that he didn't have. The apocalypse hadn't prepared him for his role. He had never asked to be the leader—it was merely bestowed on him when he wasn't watching. He observed his wife in that moment, looking for the answer in her own eyes, but he found nothing. He found nothing but more questions that he didn't have the answer to. Rick let the knowledge seep in, pulling in a deep breath before he reached out and squeezed his wife's arm. He gave her a knowing look, then ducked inside the house once more.

The woman watched after him as the door slowly swung shut, jarring ever so slightly on it's rickety hinges.

–

Blackness surrounded Aubree's vision as she began to come back to consciousness. Her eyes rolled ever so slightly as she attempted to pull herself out of the heavy fog inside of her mind, trying to pull her back down and deep into the realm of nightmares. Now days there weren't dreams anymore—your mind was filled with the same monsters that roamed the planet.

A thudding of heavy foot steps jarred her a bit more, her eyes finally opening and adjusting to the blinding lights overhead. Her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as she tried to remember the last moments before she had passed out. Groaning, Aubree made to stretch her limbs, only to be met by restraints holding her wrists in place. Glaring, her eyes turned up to the handcuffs against her wrists, the cold metal digging into her skin uncomfortably as she yanked hard at them. They rattled against the bed frame, but didn't budge and inch.

A dread filled her stomach as she realized that she was trapped. After months upon months of running, she was trapped with no way out. Her wrists slammed against the metal more frantically, desperate to get out and to run. The instinct was entirely too strong after surviving in the world now, and she couldn't suppress it the way she used to. A scream left her lips as she pounding harder, feeling the metal nearly cut into her bones. Yelping at the sensation she stilled against the bedsheets, swallowing hard as she watched her surroundings once more.

The foot steps inched closer, hesitated, then a key turned into the lock of the door. Rick stepped through the door, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly as Aubree's red wrists slammed into the metal cuffs once more. "You ain't getting' out of those. They've held many criminals before this world took them."

A bitter laugh escaped Aubree's lips, "You talk like the world still exists."

"It does in the ones who still allow it to." Rick glanced out of the door way into another room, eying the body on the bed turning his attention to the spitfire cuffed to the bed. Aubree's eyes watched his carefully, her wrists turning as she tried to get out once more. Her wrist gave ever so slightly, but got stuck once more. Her antics were enough to jar him from his thoughts, and he turned back to her. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here and now."

"You ain't that type of guy. Your partner, maybe. But you ain't him." Aubree's eyes challenged him, her eyes flickering to the gun at his waist. Her eyes dared him, taunting him to pull the trigger and show his worth in the new world.

But Rick wasn't easily persuaded, and his gun remained in his holster. "Well then, I suggest you be real friendly with him."

Rick reached out, unlocking the handcuffs attached to the bed. He was grabbing Aubree's wrists before she could make a run, a stern look in his eyes as he leaned in close to her ear. "You make a run and I'll put a bullet in your brain. You understand me?"

His breath ghosted over her skin, raising the hair on the back of her neck as she swallowed hard. For a moment the urge to run took over her, desperate Rick's warning. But something in the tone of Rick's voice held her to her spot, her logic working against her instincts. People to trust in today's society were a dime in a dozen, and Rick was no exception.

She'd be able to make her escape later, when her life wasn't on the line.


	4. Overrun

Rick entered the living area of the house, his eyes sweeping the room as they landed on Shane. He stood against the wall, his eyebrow raised expectingly at the child's recovery in the other room. His partner merely looked away, giving a firm yank to Aubree's arm. She scowled, feeling the pain shoot up her arm to her shoulder as Shane moved from the wall ever so slightly.

"If you and Otis are going, you're takin' her with you. If you have to, Walker Bait." Rick's tone was cold, unnerving, and unlike anything the girl had heard back in the forest. Her brain was still thick with sleeping, trying to pull itself back under to avoid the injuries she had obtained in the forest. Another rough squeeze to her arm alerted her to the fact that wouldn't be possible at the moment, and she forced her eyes to train themselves on the man who had original pointed his gun at her.

"She ain't goin' with us Rick!" Shane's muscles were going rigid once more, tension building as the heavier man appeared from the door way. He looked terrified in his own right, and Aubree questioned what she had missed while she had been blacked out from the world. "We don't even know if we can trust her, and you're going to send her along and bargain Carl's life?!"

Rick's fingers tensed around her arm, and Aubree was pulling her arm away quickly. "I'm doing what I think is best! She isn't a liability if she isn't part of the group! I'm giving you an extra person to gamble if things go South! This isn't up for discussion, Shane!"

Both men exchanged a look, their eyes glaring and debating with one another for a tense moment. Aubree glared ever so slightly, not wanting to go along with Rick's trigger happy friend any more than she wanted to be trapped. But the heavy set man behind Shane was giving her a reassuring look, and she couldn't help but gravitate towards the nature.

After being slammed into a tree and handcuffed to a bed, Aubree was at least thankful for an ounce of kindness.

As she waited for the two muscular partner's to settle their differences, Aubree followed Otis out to the single seat old truck. It looked like it hadn't seen the turn of the century, and Aubree smiled a bit at the vintage feel of it. It felt good to have something like it in a world so dark and cold.

"She's a beauty, ain't she?" Otis chuckled, patting his hand affectionately against the bed of the truck. Aubree offered him a smile, her head swimming in pain momentarily before she pushed it away.

"She doesn't look like she's seen the turn of the century," A slight playful tone rested underneath Aubree's accent, producing Otis' own smile as he placed a few bags into the bed of the truck. She could faintly see a barrel of a gun sticking out of one, her hands instinctively reaching for it. Before they had a chance to secure the new weapon, the door to the house slammed shut, Shane emerging from the porch steps just seconds later. His hand came down on her wrist, roughly yanking her hands away from the gun bag as she glared up at him.

"Get in the fucking truck; you ain't getting a gun." Shane's voice was gruff, full of that of a two year old who didn't get the toy he had always wanted. It gave Aubree a mild satisfaction as he threw the truck door open, silently demanding her into the seat. She took her sweet time climbing into the middle, giving a smile to Otis as he sat to her right. Shane slammed the door shut to her left, and the truck roared to life.

"At least it's a nice day for a drive." Otis commented offhandedly, his voice shaking with a bit of nerves as he glanced out the window. The truck jarred down the dirt road, Shane's eyes never leaving it as the firm look stayed on his face. "The school should only be about two miles from the mail box. The FEMA van will still be there with luck. We'll get in and get out, they couldn't have stuck around."

Shane merely nodded his head, turning at the mail box that read_ Greene_ in neat cursive. Aubree noted it later, her eyebrow raising ever so slightly at the near silent exchange between the two. "So we're robbin' a FEMA van?"

"Herschel needs a few things in order to preform the surgery. It's a medical van, it'll have what we need." Otis' voice sounded doubtful, and Aubree bit into her lip a bit. It was a suicide mission for the two of them, and Aubree was beginning to feel like it was one for her as well.

Clearing her throat a little, Aubree nodded her head. "With our luck maybe they left behind some narcotics. I don't know about you guys, but a trippy high would be pretty nice right now compared to the real world."

Otis let out a small chuckle, his eyes transfixed out the window still. His mind was in a far away state, and Aubree couldn't blame him. With everything that appeared to be going on, she couldn't imagine purposely putting her life in danger for someone else.

Shane didn't react to her statement at all, his hands simply tightening on the steering wheel as he pressed down harder on the accelerator.

–

The school was completely over run, their scratches and growls filing the echoing halls as the trio's feet hit the ground running.

Aubree's heart pounded in her chest as she looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as she gasped for air. Her legs burned—how many times could she run before they finally got her? Shane and Otis were around a foot in front of her, both glancing over their shoulders as the Walkers swept in closer. They were chasing at full speed now, their food in front of them in a three course meal. The burn set into her thighs as Aubree kicked it into full fear, dashing forward and between Shane and Otis as they ran. The hallway seemed to never end, and Aubree nearly ran into Otis' back as Shane and him skidded to a halt.

In front of them, the doors providing the exit were chained shut. Like most of the other buildings around there, the owners had had the common sense to lock the Walkers away, keeping them trapped and away from society. But now instead of an imprisonment, it felt like a death sentence. Aubree's heart pounded harder, her legs nearly giving out at the sight. Had they put all of this at risk just to die like this? Had all three of them spent months surviving only to fall? The rusted chains stared back at them, the lock unmoving. They hysterics began to set into Aubree's brain as the Walkers were a mere foot away. Her mind didn't comprehend the screams from Shane to move until her arm was being grabbed roughly, her entire body jerked into the gymnasium as the three did the only thing they could—climb.

"How the fuck do we get out of here?!" Aubree had to shout as the antagonizing growls peaked from below. Decaying arms reaching up, desperate to grab at her feet as she swallowed hard. Backing up, she flattened her hands against the wall, her eyes widening as the entire space was filled with Walkers. There was no way they were going to make it out alive.

"There's windows over there. We distract them, we get the hell out of here, and we DON'T panic!" Shane shot a look over towards the girl, who returned the same glare. Otis stood between them, glancing over Shane's broad shoulder and towards the windows. A frown graced his face for a moment before he pushed himself back flush against the wall, his boot coming down hard on a Walker's hand. It squealed for a moment, then was back at it once more.

"There ain't no way in hell I'm getting through there! Maybe you two, but my ass ain't getting through there."

"Hey, none of that talk!" Shane gave a sharp elbow to Otis' arm, a stern look in his eyes. Otis gave him a knowing look, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Do I look like I can it through that damn window?!" Shane and his eyes met for a moment in a mental battle before Otis looked away, nodding at the Walkers below. "I'll distract them. You two get out of here, and I'll go out through the locker rooms."

Shane debated for a moment before nodding, aiming his gun and firing away at the onslaught of Walkers. As soon as one was taken down, another came after it. It was endless and pointless, but it provided enough of a distraction. As Otis began to fade from view, the sound of shattering glass hit Aubree's ears, forcing her out of her trance as she quickly ran after Shane's foot steps. She saw the Walker's heads turn before she had time to alert the man above her. Her foot quickly rammed into the banister, jarring it ever so slightly as gun shots echoed in the gym once more. The two Walkers were quickly turning into a small army. Aubree kicked the banister once more, hearing the creak as more Walkers were alerted. Jarring a piece away from it's connecter, Aubree backed up as the Walkers made their way up the stairs and Shane disappeared through the window.

With a hard crack her make shift bat echoed off of a Walker's head, its blood spattering across her shirt as it collapsed at her feet. Another was taken down afterward as she made her way towards the window, the army growing larger. She turned towards the window, startling ever so slightly as another gun shot was heard and the Walker diving out the window stilled. Grabbing it's decaying waist quickly, she yanked it back through and catapulted herself through, her teeth biting into her lip hard to muffle a scream as she rolled over her arm and onto her back.

For a moment there was a stilled silence that washed over the two, the bushes scraping at their bodies as they caught their breath. Aubree could feel the burning sensation already washing through her, the bloodied steel bat laying next to her. She struggled not to scream as the white hot heat filled her body, her vision blurring momentarily as she pulled in a slow breath to put it at bay. When her eyes reopened, a large hand was in front of her, offering up a momentary truce. Aubree eyed Shane for a moment before she took it, allowing him to pull her up before he regathered the bags full of medical supplies. Aubree swayed on her feet for a moment before Shane gave her a once over, then began to make his journey away, ankle dragging against the ground.

Aubree's stomach churned once more, but she pushed the vomit back, following after Shane's zombie like foot steps. His gun fired once more as another Walker drew his attention, Aubree glancing around for something to wield as a weapon. The slightest of moment had her arm lighting on fire once more, and she was forced to push it back as she followed Shane once more, the growls and snaps of the Walker filled world filling her senses again.

Another Walker began to come up from the South, Shane pausing momentarily to set his sights and go in for the kill. His finger shook against the trigger, no doubt the pain in his leg beginning to seep into his senses. He pulled in a deep breath, trying to steady his body once more. Before he could pull the trigger a gun shot echoed, destroying the Walker in front of him. Otis stood there, his gun smoking and a slight smug grin on his face. Shane stared in disbelief, Otis making his way over in a quick few strides.

Aubree observed them quietly, watching them with skeptical eyes as they leaned back against the unstable metal fence. Otis looked worse for wear, his breathing labored and eyes closed momentarily. Shane's ankle was at an odd angle, twisted and mangled beyond her belief. Just as his head made to move back against the fence and allow his body momentary relief, Walkers charged the fence and jolted both heavy bodies off of it. The two instantly began shooting once more, Otis tucking his arm around Shane's body as they pushed away and back towards the car. Aubree quickly moved to Shane's other side, providing him with all the support that the two combined could muster.

The trio hobbled toward where the truck had been parked, the Walkers at their heels. Aubree could feel it in her feet as the concrete shook, her body going numb to the pain as she pressed on. Her heart pounded harder, her head spinning in pain as Shane paused. His arm dropped from around her injured shoulder, his eyes on Otis. "I'm sorry."

Otis and Aubree both stared at him confused, Aubree's mouth opening to speak before Shane fired a bullet into Otis' leg.

–

The truck rumbled through the familiar path that seemed like it had been traveled years ago and not just hours prior. Shane's bloodied hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes trained on the road as his good foot pressed down on the accelerator. The headlights remained off, leaving nothing but an uncomfortable silence and darkness looming over the car.

Aubree's eyes transfixed themselves on the road, her hand cradling her arm in place. Every time the truck jeered a shooting pain traveled through her body, but she couldn't feel it any longer. She was still in shock, Otis' screams still in her mind as the scene replayed itself over and over against in her head.

What frightened her the most was how unapathetic Shane looked about the whole ordeal.

"You killed a man," Aubree's voice was quiet, a cough working its way up her throat that she quickly pushed down. Her throat felt dry, like all the saliva her body could have managed dried up with Otis' screams.

"I did what I had to." Shane's words were eerie and quiet, his head leaning ever so slightly against the window. An eerie edge was inside his voice, hinting at something much more dark than Aubree had witnessed since the whole epidemic had started.

"You killed him! He was living and breathing and you just...just shot him and left him to die!" Her voice rose a few octaves, her head turning to stare at the man in the truck next to her. Shane's eyes never left the road.

"I did what I had to. Because of it, a boy's gonna live. You don't know me, you don't know a God damn thing I've been through." Shane's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his eyes moving to glance at her from his peripheral vision. "Let me ask you somethin', Aubree. What makes you so better than me? Just because you kill the Walkers? Man, they ain't nothin' but Otis, just dead. They're humans too, ain't they? And you have no problem smashing their heads in for your own survival."

Aubree swallowed hard as the truck swerved, turning down the drive. Shane's body language was reserved and cut off, and Aubree wasn't sure what frightened her more—the fact that Shane had shot someone and left them to die with no remorse, or the fact that he had a dangerous point.

As they approached within the last five feet of the farm, Shane turned to look at her once more as the truck began to roll to a stop. A firm look was in his eyes, one that told her it would be best if she kept her mouth shut. His words were quiet, a mantra that echoed through her head even as Shane got out and retrieved the medical bags, hobbling the entire time.

"_I did what I had to do."_


	5. Pain

"_I did what I had to do."_

It was a mantra, repeating over and over like a clock that was beginning to die. No more time would be held within it's quickly ticking hands, until it finally landed on one distinct number and stayed there permanently. The phrase wouldn't remove itself from Aubree's mind, repeating over and over to the point where it rang into her ears and bore into her brain. The scene haunted her memories the second she closed her eyes, the gun shot ricocheting through Otis' leg and landing on the pavement with a thick thud. She heard Otis' screams as he clung to Shane, desperate to make his way out of the school area and back with his medical supplies before it was too late.

Aubree's stomach twisted, her mind forcing her to swallow hard as she pressed her palms into her eyes, feeling the sockets against her flesh as she swallowed harder. It all echoed around, refusing to leave even if she begged it to. This was the world they were living in now; why was she still so surprised by Shane's actions? She had said it herself to Rick, hadn't she? Cops were murderers; given they had the justice to do it, it wasn't portrayed like that. But since the moment they entered the academy and trained to become a serving officer, they were taught how to protect themselves, by any means necessary. They were taught where to shoot in case of an emergency; certain ones would let you live while others were the end of it all.

Shane had deliberately chose the first option; he had shot Otis in the leg so that he would be live, squirming prey. He would be more appetizing for the Walkers if it happened that way. Aubree could still hear their victory cries, could hear the sickening sound of Otis' screams fading out and give way to the animalistic eating of the Walkers. They had been over the ridge and in the car already by the time the screams were fading, but Aubree had still heard it. She had heard the sound entirely too many times already—it was engrained in her and haunted her nightmares when she tried to sleep.

"_I did what I had to do."_

You couldn't be picky in today's word. With the dead rising up and waiting on their haunches to pounce and devour you, you couldn't spend the time deciding who's life to save. It was always in those moments where your true character was tested, and where you'd realize in the long run if it screwed you over or not. Aubree wasn't a part of the group; shouldn't she had been the easier decision? Her stomach churned as she thought of it being her lying on the ground, blood pouring her body as she was ripped open alive and eventually fell to blackness. She thought of the Walkers grubby fingers digging into her flesh, pulling out whatever they wished to devour with the sickening scent of copper in the air.

Aubree tried to breathe in deep, tried to suppress the unwelcome thoughts that were crawling up her spine like spiders. Their eight legs were digging into every nerve ending in her body, and suddenly the night air seemed too thick. The eerie silence of the farm was unwelcome and unnerving, and she found it hard to keep her body pressed to the truck. It felt wrong to even be there—it was Otis' truck, and Otis wasn't in it. Otis wasn't even on the farm anymore.

Otis was dead and inside of multiple Walkers' stomachs.

Aubree faded in and out of her own conscious state for most of the night. It was a blur of the eerie farm silence, Otis' screams in her head, and the faint crying she could hear from inside. Shane had left long ago, and Aubree hadn't had the energy to follow suit and see the disappointment on Rick's face when he saw that she was alive. Part of her mind vaguely told her that Rick had already seen her, but couldn't recall when. It was all a blur of immortality suddenly being dragged away right underneath her finger tips.

She barely registered when the door to the farm house opened once more, the rickety door clanging against the termite eaten frame. Foot steps approached her, then stopped abruptly. Aubree's eyes registered the legs in front of her, and her eyes slowly drug up until she met the eyes of the brunette whom she had seen a glimpse of before leaving. In her hands she held a few clothing items, a slight smile on her worn out face.

"Herschel said that these might fit you. He said that you shouldn't be staying in those blood stained clothes all day with the infection and all," her accent was beyond subtle and Aubree had a hard time believing she could come out of Georgia.

She nodded her head, carefully pushing herself up and hissing at the pain that slammed through her arm. Giving the brunette a small smile, she took it with her good hand. "Be sure to thank him from me. I'm Aubree."

"Lori." The brunette raised her eyebrow a bit, shocked ever so slightly at the pleasantry. Aubree didn't blame her; she'd be terrified if someone walked up to her with their hand held out for a shake in society today.

Aubree gave Lori a small smile, glancing around the farm and the faint fire from Lori's camp. Lori seemed to sense her discomfort, giving her a small smile as she shifted on her heels. She could tell that the brunette was trying to make a tough decision; one that wasn't entirely hers to make.

"We have a spare tent," she said finally, glancing out towards the fading embers of her camp. She could faintly see the risings of a few of the members as they filtered about, talking among themselves in the hushed tones that they had managed to acquire. Aubree watched her carefully, unsure of her motives for a moment. This could be her chance to run and never look back.

But the secret hanging over her head kept her firmly in place. It was the thought of Shane coming after her with a loaded gun that haunted her vision, that squashed the hope of every normal scenario she could breed. Something about the man that was hidden inside the walls of the farm intrigued her; he wasn't like the other survivors that she had stumbled on. There was something about the way that he carried himself, the way he left questions unanswered.

Turning back to Lori, she gave her a small curt nod, following the brunette's shaky steps as she led Aubree over to the camp. No one looked up at her; they were all lost in their own routines and worlds. She didn't take it personally however; everyone needed their quiet reflection after the lights slowly went down over the horizon. Lori showed her to the extra tent set further back from the group and more towards the fence line. The location didn't make Aubree feel secure, but it would have to be better than being out in the open.

–

When Aubree awoke in the morning it was to the unnatural calm of birds calling. It struck her as odd, especially in such a desolate time. She hadn't heard the birds singing their morning praises in ages, let alone hear the roosters crowing from their safe haven. She carefully brought herself to a sitting position, noting the sun climbing just over the horizon and the unnaturally heavy sound of rocks being thrown into a wheelbarrow.

Glancing down at her wrist, she tried to move it, wincing in pain as she did so. The bone looked a bit out of place, but not broken—to which she was thankful for. She could handle a sprain or dislocation, but not a broken bone. They took entirely too long to heal, and it was time she didn't have. Pushing herself up and into the fresh clothes that had been given to her by Lori the day before, Aubree cautiously ducked out of her tent. She took in the cold breeze as it filtered across her skin, almost giving away to an ominous feeling inside of her body.

Things were calm on the farm—too calm to be associated with such a cruel and pretentious world.

For a split second, everything felt like some horrible nightmare; the world that she had been living in didn't include singing birds, live animals, or even the freshest of air. It consisted of copper scent and red, and unceremonious moans from the dead.

Aubree's eyes traveled along the horizon and away from the seemingly abandoned camp just feet from her. They didn't stop to observe what the group had brought with them—they simply carried on towards the road and a nearby tree where the people from the night before were gathered, a stack of rocks built up against it to resemble a grave.

Shane stood, hair freshly buzzed away and eyes careful and guilty looking as the man that looked entirely too old for this world spoke. His eyes scanned him ever so slightly as the ceremony was continued, and then his eyes widened as the attention was turned to him. She could tell that he was backing off, trying to find a way around what was being bestowed on him. When there was no turning back, Shane was forced to recall the events from a night before, but a much more twisted version than Aubree had recalled. But was that part of the nightmare that she had been dreaming? Shane made his way over towards the wheelbarrow, taking a rock from it and placing it upon the top of the make shift grave. His ankle drug behind him the entire time.

Aubree knew it wasn't a nightmare.

–

A few hours after the ceremony had broken off, Aubree found herself mulling around the camp for a bit. She could see the mistrusting looks in the eyes of everyone around her. It wasn't an abnormal feeling—she was an outsider to the group and someone who Shane didn't appear to trust. Aubree didn't know a lot about them, or how their inner workings turned, but she could guess that Shane was one of the more important authority figures around them. Her biggest guess was that Rick and Shane were the ones who had led the group here, whether it was intentional or not.

Making her way down the ridge of trees and towards the camper, she took a left as she watched Andrea walk out from the trees. She was mumbling something to herself about having to surrender her weapon, and Aubree's eyebrow arched up slightly as her shoulder slammed ever so slightly into hers on the pass by. She pushed the thoughts out of her head however and continued forward, coming face to face with the very thing she had been unintentionally seeking out.

Shane sat at the picnic table, a bag of guns sitting on top of it as he flicked through them, mentally taking count. The police insagnia of his hat made her roll her eyes for a moment before she stepped up, hovering and debating taking a seat. Shane's ears perked ever so slightly at the sound of footsteps, his well trained hearing picking up on even the quietest of sounds. His eyes ran up her body until they reached hers, the expression in his face changing as he stared at the girl.

"I trust you ain't got a gun." Shane's voice was quiet, skeptical, and unready for any form of discussion. His elbows leaned on the table as Aubree shook her head, carefully taking a seat on the bench and carefully calculating just how far away the bag of guns was from her in case of an emergency.

"Gun surrender? Don't you think that's a little dangerous considering the outlook of things?" Aubree's voice tiptoed around an obvious insult, her eyes glancing around and scoping out the nearest exits. Shane raised his eyebrow up ever slightly, simply shrugging his shoulders as his fingers ran over the tops of the guns.

"Not my orders."

"Rick's then," Aubree quipped back before Shane could get another word out. His cold eyes carefully calculated the girl in front of him, searching for something in her that he wasn't aware of. Aubree didn't shy away from the staring contest, her thoughts cool and collected in a facade that she was ready to put on if she needed to. "He seems to be in charge around here, anyway."

"Guess so." Shane's voice was even quieter, his muscles tensing up ever so slightly. "What's the real reason you're out here? Why ain't you runnin' yet like you want to?"

Aubree's eyes scanned the man in front of her's face, her teeth biting into her lip ever so slightly in thought. Why hadn't she run? Had she been simply too mentally exhausted to do so, given what had happened the night prior? But she had every opportunity now to just turn into the trees and forget that any of this had ever happened. But there were too many things nagging at her, refusing to budge and make her leave the imprisonment of the camp.

"Why wasn't it me." Shane's eyebrow arched up a bit in silent question and Aubree rolled her eyes a little, finally dragging them away from the trees and a possible escape route. "Why wasn't I the one left for Walker food?"

"Because you got that means of survival in you last time I checked." Shane said his answer carefully, as if it had been repeated over and over again in his head. Aubree's own eyebrow arched back in response, a small voice of hysteria beginning to rise up in her head again.

"You killed a man who you've known, you just met me and last time I checked, you pointed your gun in my face." Aubree's hand reached out to grab a gun, getting her fingers on the barrel just as Shane's larger hand enclosed on her injured wrist tightly. Aubree felt the sickness rising up in her stomach as the pain rushed through her, her teeth biting into her lip with a silent scream as she pushed it down. Shane's eyes carefully analyzed the girls' reaction, noting it all down in a mental piece of paper to be filed away later.

Aubree's eyes rose up to his, pain evident and clear, but a more profound means of anger and determination overshadowing them. Shane leaned in closer as his grip tightened, Aubree's teeth finally drawing blood as she pulled back mentally from the pain. "You're not screamin'. You ain't beggin' for death. You're a different breed, one this world needs. Otis? Ain't nobody have time for that kind of kindness in today's world. He served his purpose. Don't make me regret letting you serve yours."

With that Shane pushed off of her wrist, Aubree's opposite wrist punching hard at the wood below her as she felt the bones pop back into place.

Shane didn't bother to look at her as he grabbed his bag of guns, heading back towards the camper. He shut the door behind him with a loud bang, closing the door both on society and any further discussion.


	6. Silence

The farm had a capacity for more than it was currently taking in. With four wells on the property and good land to harvest food, it was no wonder the Greene's had managed to distance themselves from the zombie epidemic. Up until Aubree had actually witnessed the full acreage herself, she had questioned how the Greene's could be so calm when every moment you were fighting for your life. But out here, it almost felt like a resort; there were no zombies, there were high fences that could keep them out, and there was the fact that they had fresh resources that they didn't have to scavenge for. However, Aubree wasn't naive—she knew that the family would have to wake up at some point and realize that the world had ceased to exist.

Aubree's back rested against a tree as she took the scenery in, the soft lulling of the leaves against their branches nearly making her believe that the world hadn't ended. It was a terrific illusion, one that she wished that she could believe for more than five minutes. However, the licking of a fire near her boots was an alert enough that this was a survival game now, and that day dreams couldn't be involved. They were for the weak, reserved for the moments of true security.

Despite Herschel Greene's farm being so secure, Aubree had the nagging feeling that not everything was as it seemed.

Lori busied herself with the cooking, her fingers running routinely over the carrots as her knife began the routine motions of moving up and down. It was almost soothing, a routine role still carrying into the post apocalyptic world. Her eyes remained focused as she did it, her body language a little more put off than Aubree had learned over the past week or so that she had been in camp.

Pushing off of the tree, Aubree made her way over, taking a seat across from the woman who appeared to be the only one besides Carol in camp that was remotely a bit sane. "Need any help?"

Lori looked up in surprise, a look of confusion passing across her eyes before she regained her senses. "I'm fine, thanks."

Aubree nodded a little at the shortness, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. "Suit yourself then."

Lori debated for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she breathed deep. Brushing the carrot pieces into a bucket, she then reached into the bag at her side and pulled out another knife. It looked much duller than the one that she was using, but Aubree couldn't complain. She was still the new girl in camp, and one that Shane hadn't exactly given his blessings to. As the days rolled on, she found it hard to distinguish who's approval she was trying to get—Rick or Shane's. They both gave off and eerie feel of two realistic leaders, and Aubree wasn't sure which one was going to battle ahead.

Reaching over, Lori handed her the knife and nodded to the bucket of vegetables by her leg. "It'd be nice to have some, on second thought." She sent Aubree a slight smile, her eyes still off in a daze.

Aubree let it go for the moment, instead reaching in and grabbing a few of the stray vegetables. They didn't look like they had a very vast selection, but she figured it was the gesture of Herschel's farm more than anything. It was a comfort zone that they had taken full advantage of, and she guessed that they had been on the road longer than her. Slowly, she worked the knife through the first one, trying to get the hang of it again. A slight chuckle left her lips as she pushed the pieces into the opposite bucket. "You know, it's funny. Back then all I wanted was somethin' to distract me from routines. Now I'm practically beggin' for it."

"Isn't it funny how that happens?" A small smile lit up Lori's face as she brushed her own into the bucket, her eyes glancing around camp. They were dazed, glazed over with better times that Aubree wasn't allowed to know about. "I'd still give anything to even go back to school and be learning."

"I guess the grass really isn't greener, huh?" A soft chuckle left Aubree's lips as she pushed the remainder of her pile into the bucket. It landed with a light thump, one that echoed in her head and etched itself there. In that moment, it felt more like familiarity than she was truly willing to admit.

Lori pushed the rest of her pile into the bucket as well, then rose from her spot. She walked over to the fire that was set low, soft plumes of smoke rising from it. Emptying them into the boiling water, Lori stared at the flames for a moment. They let out a hiss as a few extra splashes of water hit them, not wanting to relent its hold on the twigs below.

An eerie silence fell over the two, and Aubree worked her fingers over her wrist that still felt sore after being snapped back into place. Lori glanced up at her and to her wrist, then pulled away from the fire a bit. "You're a smart girl, you have your head on your shoulders..." Aubree glanced up, her eyebrow raising a little at the older woman speaking. She had tucked her own hands into her pocket, watching Aubree with a careful curiosity and a warning behind her normally kind eyes. "Do yourself a favor and steer clear of Shane, alright? You're welcome here, you've earned your place after you saved Carl's life. But if you were a smart girl, you'd steer clear of him."

Lori reached her hand out, squeezing at Aubree's good shoulder with a small motherly like look on her face. Then she was heading off towards the tents in camp, her body frame ducking away inside of the secure plastic while she left questions on Aubree's tongue.

–

It wasn't until the sun was beginning to trail over the tree, painting the skies with a darkening hue of orange that Aubree managed to drag herself away from her thoughts. The flames were licking at the pots again, the stew that Lori was preparing earlier starting to take form as everyone began to form in the camp once more. Dale was propped up in the opening to the RV, watching the camp through spectating eyes as Andrea and Shane interacted without a care. A few short laughs were shared, hands lingering on arms, and with every touch Dale's eyes darkened.

Lori watched through her own jaded eyes, ones full of memories that made her stomach clench uneasily. There was something there, beneath the brim of the exterior that Lori tried to withheld. It reminded Aubree of back when things had been more human, more realistic, and more dying for a voice in the dying sunset. Back when television shows and mundane things like chores seemed like such an inconvenience. But there was something there that didn't put Aubree at ease, and her eyes remained focused on Lori as she shakily swirled the wooden spoon in the thick broth.

Foot steps jarred her out of her thoughts, and it wasn't long until a tall, casting shadow was at her feet, close to her ear from behind and speaking like a ghost in the night. "How 'bout you come with me."

It wasn't a question—it was a command. Aubree turned ever so slightly, her shoulder jarring into Shane's chest as she raised her eyebrow up at him. There was a dark, semi-humored look in his eyes as he observed her, lips pursed. Aubree opened her mouth to protest, but there was something in the darkness of his eyes that kept her from doing so. She nodded her response, turning fully on her heel and heading over towards the RV where Dale was still standing post.

As they approached, Dale and Shane's eyes met. Some silent battle went on that Aubree wasn't allowed in on, and from the dark hues in both of their eyes, Aubree truly didn't want to. Her mind was racing with enough thoughts, and as Dale moved to let Shane into the RV, he moved back in front of the door to block her entry. She heard Shane let out a light disbelieving scoff as he disappeared further into the RV, and Aubree raised her eyebrow in question.

"I need to get in there," she stated simply, arms crossing against her chest and hips taking on a familiar stand. Dale merely shook his head, never once letting his eyes take on the same warm hues that she had seen him have with the likes of Lori and Glenn.

"You're a smart girl, you're staying out here." His voice was rough, bordering on the edge of something that Aubree couldn't exactly place. It was the same warning tone authority used, but one that gave hintings to something deeper, more sinister.

When Aubree really thought about it, it was the same tone that Lori had used with her earlier on in the day.

"I need to get in there." Aubree repeated her statement, her tone hardening as her stance did. She stepped forward a bit until her knees were touching Dale's, a threatening stance that she had learned long ago. Dale raised his eyebrow back at her, his eyes darkening and widening a bit in surprise at the same time. Her fingers gripped at her hip out of pure instinct, ready to pull the gun that had always proven its' worth in a dire situation. But she came up with empty air, and Dale's eyes slowly narrowed into a glare.

"Calm down, hormones." A deep chuckle came from behind Dale, Shane reemerging from the darkness. His bemused look was settled on her hip where she was clutching open air. Dale tensed up, glaring at Shane as he slowly moved from the entry way once more. Shane smirked, stepping down the stairs and twirling the two guns in his hands. "Dale's just old, thinks that girls an' boys shouldn't be playin' together. Ain't that right, Dale?"

Dale said nothing, moving away from Shane with a warning stance in his eyes. A smirk tugged at Shane's lips, his mouth falling open ever so slightly as he watched the older man move towards the security of the group. Aubree's eyes remained trained on the man in front of her, her muscles tensing up in the chance of danger. She knew what Shane was capable of, and she wasn't going to over step a boundary if she could help it.

Shane turned his gaze back to Aubree, chuckling as his hand found it's way to her lower back. Giving it a firm shove, Aubree glared back at him as she began to walk forward. "Go to the truck."

"I ain't a prisoner here," she quipped back, letting her feet carry her over the familiar territory of the farm land. The contour of the land rose and fell underneath the motion of her legs, catching on the worn contours of her boots. She could hear the much heavier steps behind her, and could also hear the hard clack that erupted every time the guns moved against one another.

Once the truck came into view, Aubree's eyes rose up to meet Shane's on the other side of the truck. His hands paused at the door, his eyebrow rising up ever so slightly. There was an odd, neutral calm in Shane's eyes that twisted her stomach and made her unsettled. Was he a man that could truly kill twice? Aubree figured it was a stupid question, even as she placed herself in passenger seat of the truck. It still had the faint smell of Otis lingering in its' fabrics, rising up like a ghost as the doors closed around her.

Looking back towards the camp, she caught Lori's eyes. She was holding a cup of stew close to her chest, watching the girls' every moves with the slightest hint of disgust and disdain in her eyes.

–

The truck lulled along the dusty road, roaring and determined for attention. It cracked against every crack in the road, jarring unevenly with the potholes that had been long abandoned in the Georgia country side. The truck jarred at every angle, sending both Shane and Aubree's shoulders into the door whenever it saw fit. It was an eerie silence—the radio waves had long since stopped broadcasting the message. There was no one left to broadcast them too anymore, nor was there anyone left to listen. It was an eerie thought that forced Aubree to swallow hard and turn her eyes from the road and towards Shane's face.

It hadn't changed at all—it was a smooth, calm neutral that showed no hinting as to what was happening. Aubree had no idea where they were driving to, nor why Shane had trusted her enough to leave the two guns between them as a divider. His hand was smoothed over the leather steering wheel, watching the road with darting eyes and looking for oncoming threats.

The truck stopped when the hues of the sky began to become a darker orange and the land around her began to grow darker. Shane killed the engine, throwing the keys into his pocket as he kicked the door open. He reached over and grabbed the two guns, raising his eyebrow expectingly at her. "Get out."

Aubree swallows hard, pulling in a deep breath to neutralized her nerves as she pushed her own door open. It creaked louder in the night, the sound of crickets coming out of hiding lighting up her senses. Chewing into her lip a little, she closed the door and waited as it echoed out into the oncoming night. She stepped away from the door and around the front of the truck, meeting Shane at the fence line that sat towards the edge of the road.

"So this is it, you're going to kill me here?" Aubree's voice didn't shake, her eyes staying trained on the rolling fields endlessly before her. She remembered when cows had taken up residency there, had provided to families and the economy around her. But now it was a vast, barren land, with the ghost of memories past still trekking through the fields.

Shane let out a slightly humored chuckle, his hands gripping at the posts of the fence. His eyes trailed out around the hills as well, carefully avoiding the girls' eyes next to him as he subconciously licked his lips. "Thought we had this conversation before."

"Things change." Aubree felt every hair on her body stand at end at the tone in Shane's voice. It was haunting, almost speaking the voices of the hauntings past. The breeze sent every other thought in her mind on edge as it whipped around her and through the grass, the eerie shaking of the leaves making her body tremble ever so slightly. Pulling in a deep breath she steadied herself once more. "World's changed."

Shane turned and leaned back against the fence himself, glancing back out towards the road. He took in the truck that was still ticking with the fading heat, nodding his head a bit as he kicked at the stones at his feet. "Ain't that right..." He kicked at the stone hard, watching it skip over the ditch and bounce off the tire of the truck. Turning towards Aubree, he leaned his side against the fence post. "I ain't killin' you."

"Then why bring me out here?" Aubree's muscles tensed as she turned, trying to read the look on Shane's face. His face remained neutral, the small hinting of bemusement hidden in his dark eyes. Aubree stepped back slightly, not trusting the look that should have been comforting to his words.

"Guess you'll find out in time," a smirk was set in his lips before it disappeared. He reached into the holster at his hip, yanking out one of the guns that had been seated between them prior. He held it out, eyebrow raised expectingly at Aubree.

Her hands remained at her sides for a moment, assessing the situation and his words. Something told Aubree deep in her stomach that taking the gun was more than just simply doing that. But she pushed it down, reached out and grabbed the gun. Shane's hand lingered on the hilt of the gun, Aubree's on the barrel.

A battle went on between their minds without them needing to say a word—a pact was being made, whether Aubree agreed to it or not. There was no turning back from the only two options she had—Aubree was either to make the pact, or she wouldn't make it back to the farm. Shane had patience when proven, but the eerie silence that fell between them was telling enough.

The two of them stared one another down again, then Shane's hand slowly fell from the hilt.


End file.
